Liars Are Thieves

We all know that to murder is bad. Killing someone is to deprive that person of life. It’s an unfair, one-sided exchange — no going back. Death is final. It’s a tragedy to be killed, especially if you planned on living! However, lying can be worse than death. We’ve all said innocent “white lies” that do not cause irreparable harm, like saying there’s a Santa Claus or a Tooth Fairy. These are harmless statements said to brighten an occasion, or make losing a tooth not such a bad thing.

That’s not lying that can cause irreparable damage or harm to an individual’s reputation. This could cause a lifetime of dysfunction to a family, business, even a community; depending on the extent of the lie. That kind of lying is criminal in its effects because it stifles the truth and prevents growth. That’s worse than death, especially if you are the victim to such a heinous crime. Imagine living a lie that was said about you, based on the opinion of another. Their opinion has defined you, causing you to jeopardize your own self-worth. How can you know when you believe their opinion above your own? A well planted lie can distort and last for years. One poisonous lie can last a lifetime. That is truly tragic because that person may never become who they were meant to be.

It’s pitiful to think this describes the life of millions of people today. Unwittingly, a person can take to heart what they learn as children. Many give up their dreams. That’s why there are so many alcoholics and drug addicts in the world today whose lives fell apart believing a parent, a grandparent, an aunt, an uncle, even an older sibling. After all, they know what’s best for you! The sad truth is when you’re young, you’re vulnerable, unaware of the psychological games some people play or who are too ignorant to know better. When you are a child, you are too young to understand that a person’s view is simply an opinion, not a statement of fact. In other words, it may not be the truth!

That’s the story of Paul.

* * *

Paul grew up in a very critical family. Although gifted in sports, Paul was discouraged from playing football by his grandfather, who was the patriarch of the family. Whatever grandpa says, all would accept without question, including Paul.

Paul remembers the day he tried out for the high school football team “just for fun.” A tall, well-built boy, Paul isn’t aware of having any talent for the game. Despite liking the sport and tossing the ball many times with his younger brother and neighborhood kids, Paul doesn’t give the sport much thought. He knows his grandpa’s view. When the younger boys gush accolades, Paul accepts them with a grin, never taking their words seriously.

On the day of the try-outs, Paul’s performance on the field is outstanding. He throws several impressive passes. One of the boys on the sideline shouts, “Do that again, rocket arm!”

Paul is stunned. He’s never been described as much of anything, so such a title is confusing. You mean, I’m good at this? Paul thinks to himself. But I can’t be. Grandpa will never approve!

After the try outs, the coaches are unanimous in selecting Paul for the

team’s quarterback. Paul is stunned, but adamantly declines.

“I can’t play football.” He stammers. “I just tried out for fun!”

The coaches are crestfallen.

“Look, son.” One of the coaches tells him. “I’ve been coaching many years, and you’ve got the strongest arm I’ve seen in a boy your age. It wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t go pro.”

Paul stands there fumbling with his hat.

“I can’t play, sir.” Paul manages to tell the man who looks at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry.”

Later that evening, shortly after supper, the coach stops by Paul’s home. He tells the family what an outstanding performance Paul gave that after-noon. Paul’s mother smiles, while his father glances at Grandpa, whose expression is grave and emotionless.

“That’s a nice story.” Grandpa tells the man, who quickly becomes disappointed by the tone in the old man’s voice. “But my grandson is not interested. He has other aspirations, and that doesn’t include playing ball for you! Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to get back to being a family.”

The coach looks at the man stunned by the words and grim expression on the old man’s face. He looks at the parents, then at Paul before turning to leave.

“Naturally, it’s your decision.” He tells the family. Then, he looks at Paul. “Just know, Paul, you’ve got a gift and it would be a real shame not to use it.”

After the coach leaves, Paul turns to his grandfather. “What other aspira-tions do I have, grandpa? Be a bricklayer, like you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a bricklayer!”

“No. There’s not. But you complain all the time about your aching back. Why would I want that?”

“Now, you listen to me, son. You get it out of your head right here and now, you ain’t playing no football! You got that?”

Paul looks at him.

“We ain’t discussing it again.”

“But… grandpa!”

“Nope. Nothing to be discussed.” His grandfather replies firmly. “Now, let’s get back to being a family with no more talk about football.”

That scene runs over and over in Paul’s mind as he ends another long day in the hot sun, laying bricks.

Grandpa has been dead for several years, yet that discussion is crystal clear in his memory. Paul often thinks about what would have happened if he disobeyed his grandpa and did what he wanted to do. It’s too late now. High school ended ten years ago and being in the pros is out of the question. What if? Paul envisions wearing a football uniform and hearing the crowd roar as he throws the touchdown pass.

He shakes his head as he leaves to go home.

On his way home, Paul sees a teenage boy wiping away tears, obviously upset. Normally, Paul leaves such matters alone, but he felt a tug on his heart.

“Listen, son. I don’t know what’s troubling you, but it’s ok, get better!” Paul tells the boy, who looks at him with red swollen eyes.

“You don’t understand. My dad won’t let me play football!”

Paul’s eyes widen.

“How much does football mean to you?”

“Everything, sir! I breathe football!” The boy tells Paul with earnest.

“Is your dad home?” Paul asks.

“Yes.” The boy tells Paul, wiping his face. “He’s inside with my uncle.”

Paul walks to the front door and knocks. Within minutes Paul is surprised to see a face he vaguely remembers. His thoughts on how he knows this face are interrupted by a cheerful voice.

“Hey, rocket arm! How are you?”

Paul stares at the man for several minutes, before placing the man’s face with the football tryouts and giving the guy a huge grin.

“I’m good. Hie are you?”

“We sure missed you that season, and for all the Seasons we played. What happened? Why didn’t you join the team?”

“I’m glad you asked because that’s exactly why I’m here!”

He turns to the boy, who is startled to hear that Paul has played football.

“Before we begin, I think your dad needs to be here.” Paul tells the boy, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Within minutes, Paul is sitting on the sofa speaking to the father and uncle and why the boy should play football.

“I’m not trying to get into a family squabble, but only to suggest that you allow the boy to express this desire to play football. Whether he’s a natural or not, it’s far better for him to play than never know. I speak from experience when I say this. I was prohibited from playing, and believe me not a day goes by that I don’t think “what if.”

“Yes, but I have plans for him to go into accounting and football will interfere with that.”

“Maybe.” Paul replies. “Maybe he goes into accounting and maybe he won’t. But. Wouldn’t it be better for your son to be happy, expressing who he truly is versus being someone other than himself?”

The father looks at him squarely.

“I had a dream too, and I thought going along with your parents was what kids do.”

“If your dream collides with theirs, it’s wonderful. But it’s not when you’re being someone other than what you want to be.”

“My brother says you’re a good football player.”

“Maybe, years ago, but I haven’t played since then.”

“There’s an Assistant Coach job that’s available at the high school. I can see by the expression on my son’s face; he’d like you to take the job!”

The boy shakes his head enthusiastically.

“Would you be interested?” The father looks at Paul in earnest.

“It sure beats laying bricks, and I enjoyed playing football.” Paul replies candidly.”

“Are you kidding, rocket arm? You were amazing.”

They all smile.

“No promises, Paul, but I will talk to the coach.” The father tells Paul, shaking his hand.

Within a few weeks, Paul is no longer laying bricks, but coaching boys to play better ball. He feels lucky, grateful to be involved in a sport he loves. Still, on occasion, he thinks about “what if,” and why he teaches “be true to you.”

When you please another person at the expense of yourself, the cost can be very great. This is the worst form of lying. To accept another person’s opinion, and shortchange yourself by becoming someone other than who you are meant to be is a tragedy worse than death. That’s why it’s so important to be true to you. When you do that, you may be surprised by how far life takes you.